A Cowboy Courtship

(Author’s note: This is a story about parallel universes. In science fiction, as we all know, there are an infinite number of universes with infinite variations of everything, including people. So any resemblance between characters depicted here and real persons, names or pennames is entirely coincidental.)

“I’m sure that someday I will lose it and kill that woman!’ Mirabella said angrily.

“Oh, please,” Jane begged.. “I’d like to have a relaxing weekend without your dragging the office along with us. Not that I don’t hate Screaming Sally as much as you do.”

At the mention of their overbearing office manager’s nickname, both girls shuddered in spite of the high temperature. Global warming had made much of England’s coastline subtropical beaches and they wore terrycloth robes over swimsuits as they walked down the path to the water’s edge.

There was a sudden sound like a thunderclap and a mass of swirling blue light appeared several hundred meters to their right. Mirabella uttered a startled yelp.

“Those damned inter-universe portals! They should give us warnings when one is about to open.”

“I saw a documentary about that last week,” Jane said. “They said it’s like the early days of the internet, when people felt free to do all sorts of crazy stuff. Eventually governments will agree on rules that will make universe hoppers more responsible.”

“I hope that happens soon.” Mirabella turned her back to the portal and started to talk about something else. But her words were drowned in the clatter of approaching hoof beats. A masculine voice hollered: “Yee Haw!” and a looped rope encircled Mirabella’s waist, jerking her to a halt.

“What the bloody hell?” she cried.

The girls turned to see a tall mounted man holding the other end of the lasso, as he reined in his horse and sprang lightly to the ground. He certainly looked the part of a cowboy, dressed in a red shirt and bandanna, jeans and chaps, boots and spurs, a low-slung six shooter and a large Stetson hat that he swept off in a low bow.

“Howdy, ladies. I’m Hankerin’ Hank McKay of the planet Wanderwest in the Universe of a Thousand Sunsets. At your service.”

“What are you hankering for?” Jane asked.

“Why, a woman, of course. What else would a real red-blooded man hanker for?”

The words were delivered through a wide smile of sparkling white teeth below equally sparkling blue-green eyes.

“Then go hanker someplace else,” Mirabella said, removing the lasso and tossing it to Hank. “We’re not that kind of girls.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jane said, eying Hank’s muscular physique.

“My intentions are honorable,” Hank said. “It’s a wife woman I’m seeking. I got me a hundred thousand acre spread overflowing with blooded cattle and throughbred horses and a bank account overflowing with cash. All I need is a she-mate and some kids to help me make the most of it. So like my Pappy and Grandpappy before me, I saddled up to cut a pretty heifer out of the herd and put my brand on her.”

“How barbaric!” Mirabella wrinkled her nose in disgust. “What kind of man would want to apply a hot branding iron to a woman’s…where it would hurt to sit down?”

“Different cultures have different courtship customs,” Jane said tolerantly. “Who are we to say that ours is better than others?

“It’s more like a tattoo,” Hank said. “Not painful at all.”

“I’m still not interested,” Mirabella said.

“Maybe I could be,” Jane said, rolling her eyes coyly. “If you want to give that lasso another fling.”

“Thank you kindly, ma’am,” Hank said. “But me and Mirabella are a perfect match. That’s what Inter-Universal Dating Service said when I ran my profile through it.”

“What!” cried Mirabella. “Oh, yes. I opened an account there over a year ago. I must have forgotten to close it when I started getting replies from creeps and losers.”

“I ain’t neither of those,” Hank assured her. “I’ll make you a good husband and give you a good life, if you’ll have me.”

Mirabella regarded him thoughtfully. He did have some appeal, for a big dumb galoot. She was surprised to remember that word from her childhood, when she had dreamed of being a beautiful cowgirl riding the range with a handsome cowboy sweetheart. She supposed Hank was handsome under his beard stubble and dusty cheeks and strong scent of sweat and cows and horses. He smelled…well, manly. But it was disconcerting to have her little girl fantasy made real so abruptly. She wanted to have the right to choose which dashing horseman would come along and sweep her off her feet.

“I’m sorry,” she told Hank, as they reached the beach. “Now please excuse us while we have our swim.” She removed her robe and walked toward the water, proud of her trim figure in a thong bikini.

“Great leapin’ buffalos!” Hank exclaimed. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?” Mirabella looked around in puzzlement. Then she remembered the tattooed heart with “JOE” in it on her left hip. “Oh, that’s nothing. Just something left over from an ex-boyfriend.”

“Well, excuse me all to hell for being such a lowdown polecat that’d try to rustle another buckaroo’s branded livestock.”

“Livestock?” Mirabella cried indignantly. “Why, you…” She ran to him and slapped his face smartly.

“Careful, gal,” Hank said. “Where I come from, men are allowed to hit back.”

“Just try it,” she challenged. “I have a black belt in karate. So take your best shot, if you want me to kick your a--”

Hank cut the word off by making the unsportsmanlike attack of wrapping his arms around her and bringing his mouth down on hers. She tried to struggle, but his lips were so demanding and his tongue was a flamethrower igniting dazzling fireworks in her mind. It wasn’t until she felt her toes dangling in mid-air that she realized he had literally swept her off her feet. When he finally put her down, her knees were so weak that she nearly fell. She opened her mouth to tell him off, but all that came out was:

“Oh, my!”

She took a deep breath and tried again. “Oh, my! Oh, my! Oh, my!”

“Then it’s all settled,” Hank said matter-of-factly. “We’ll mosey off to Wanderwest where Parson Ike Samuels will get us hitched so we can start havin’ a passel of young’uns.”

“What about my brand…er, tattoo?” Mirabella asked.

“No problem. Just mount up for a hard ride. The friction will rub it off.” Hank lifted her into the saddle and vaulted over the horse’s rump to sit behind her, their bodies pressed snugly together.

“But I have so many things to do before we leave,” Mirabella protested.

“Leave that to me,” Jane said. “I’ll tell Screaming Sally that you found a better job and she can send you your back pay, if there’s an inter-universal mail forwarding service. Have a happy honeymoon.”

“Don’t worry about money, honey” Hank said. He reached around Mirabella to take the reins and started the horse off at an easy trot.

“Do you think this will really rub the tattoo off?” she asked.

“Nope, I lied about that,” Hank admitted. “I just couldn’t think of a better way for us to enjoy the ride.”

“Why, you…” She was tempted to slap him again. Instead, she twisted her head around to kiss him. “Neither can I.”

Hank pressed her more tightly against him and they rode off into the Thousand Sunsets of Wanderwest.

The End